


The thorns

by Elizabeth G (WhiteCloud)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Positivity, Aging, Cruel Upbringing, Down of Patriarchy, Emotionally crippled father, Fantasy, Father has PTSD, Father is a warrior, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mortal Injury, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Self-Loathing, Self-Sacrifice, Son tries to be a warrior, and disability, anger management issues, emotional incest, had been forced to become
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCloud/pseuds/Elizabeth%20G
Summary: Dan is fatally wounded during the encounter. Lavrin sacrifices the part of his magical energy, hoping to heal his father. He succeeds, but the efforts affect him, temporarily taking away his youth and, in perspective, shortening his life. Dan struggles to tolerate his son’s decision, and the struggle is far from being easy.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	The thorns

**Author's Note:**

> I only wanted to point out that the name Dan here should be pronounced like [dan]. Lavrin [lavrin] and Vilna are the Slavic names. Same with the names of locations.

Dan let himself still, glaring at the water surface of the pond. His pitiful reflection was slightly swaying. He touched his face, frowning at the sight of that gray exhausted skin, clinging to the sharp lines of his bones. There wasn’t a reason to become upset — he always looked that awfully. 

Dan had the acknowledgment at hand. Vilna was sitting on the bank near him, studying his expression. No muscle moved on her face when she finally commented,

“You’re not handsome.”

He sighed, considering her opinion for a moment, and then reluctantly got up. Vilna followed, moving behind him swiftly, like a bird in the stream of wind. 

“Don’t worry about your aging, teacher. Nobody has ever found you attractive.”

“I know that,” Dan grumbled, crossing his arms. 

“Father, I think you’re beautiful,” Lavrin intervened. He finally adjusted to their pace. “I’m glad to be your son and to look like you.”

Vilna glared.

“But you don’t look like him!”

Lavrin opened his mouth to object, but then he noticed how Vilna and Dan exchanged small grins. They were only joking. He’d thought about it when the awkward conversation only began, and now he was sure, and let himself exhale in joyful relief. 

They had to stop near the warrior’s camp of Chervona Runa. Dan expected that. Their goal was to take a closer look at the ruins of burnt Iskra, and no one hoped that their way would've been uninterrupted. To appear near the borders of Chervona Runa was dangerous at all times. Dan didn’t complain; he never did. 

“Ugh, these warriors surrounded us,” Vilna made a step back and brushed Dan’s shoulder. “Four of them against us three. Good! I’m ready!”

Lavrin stood still and quiet, staring at the faces of the enemies, trying to find something familiar. But there wasn’t anyone he had known. He wasn’t scared. He had heard the whispering of the trees, he’d felt the glares of the forest’s creatures, pointed at him. That meant danger. Then, he’d listened to the earth and sensed those threatening steps of the warriors, trampling the grass. His heart was now beating slowly, although deafeningly. 

Dan took a quick look at him. “Not a child anymore,” he repeated to himself. He didn’t need to protect his son, was allowed to fully concentrate at the encounter. And even if someone would've killed him, he shouldn’t have worried about Lavrin needing his care. “Almost adult,” Dan thought, shivering from the inner waves of strange composure.

“Dan,” Vilna squeezed his arm, reminding about the presence of the enemies. 

So Dan did what he was expected to, bursting forward, giving up to the storm, flaming his head and muscles. Two of them were dead instantly. Dan vaguely felt the warmth on his face — a few droplets of blood, going down to his chin. There was also a vague prickling in his nape, and he perfectly knew from where it came. Lavrin was looking at him. Then he lowered his head and exhaled heavily. More than once Dan had seen the similar expression on Lubomyr’s face. His dear friend should've rested in peace... Nobody wanted to see that monster inside him, who actually was only a crippled child, but still—

Lost in his thoughts, Dan shook his head, returning back to the field. Vilna gave him a reassuring nod. 

They still had two enemies to fight with. Dan concluded that one of them should have been a magician. Those strange red spots on his skin hinted at the unusual birth. Dan had managed to think that before his feet lost their support. Whatever power the magician owned, it pushed Dan’s body fiercely backward and downhill. 

He knew that rocks laid in the ravine, but there was no way he could fall there. He still thought it was impossible, even when the feeling of the ground left him and his spine crushed against the sharp edges. 

The knives of pain pierced him, and then his body instantly became limp, deafened by the damage. He could oddly feel his limbs around, unnaturally crooked, as if they were scattered along the rocks and didn't belong him anymore. But the bleeding was light, while the plunge into the abyss so swift. The screams barely reached his hearing, spilling far away, dissolving in the thickness of the air. He was dying. The thought made his chest move slower. He had to vanish, finally, and it was fine, it was good, not so hard to accept. 

With the corner of his eye, he managed to notice how strange green vines were weaving around him before tightly clasping his shattered body. Where did they come from...? The darkness crushed on Dan abruptly. 

He lifted his eyelids after some moment and the world was fair again. 

"You're not dead," Vilna always knew what he was thinking about. 

Dan shifted his head a little, to see that sharp pale face, frowned with concern. He knew that Lavrin had to be near. He could feel the flow of the green lively energy, swirling around him like those magic vines, now helplessly hanging down his body. 

Dan sat up warily. The rocks were still grazing his palms and feet. The memory of the fall was still vibrating in his spine but it didn't hurt. Dan touched the spots which should've been wounded, and to his wonder, only his clothes felt torn. 

"You should be fine. I think I've healed you in time," Lavrin muttered weakly, kneeling not far away from him. 

Dan held his breath, realized, and accepted that he wasn't damaged, and only then he felt strong enough to look at his son. 

"What happened?" 

"I'm sorry for not stopping him, that magician. His power was similar to mine but I couldn't strike him or restrain at the right moment. Your ax... The shaft is wooden. He moved the wood. Your weapon pushed you to the abyss."

Lavrin wasn't looking at him. Dan frowned at that. But not only at that. 

"You've changed. Your skin... Why are you—?" 

"Why am I looking as if I'm ten years older than before? It's the spell. Mother has taught me. My power is about life, so I'm able to revive the living creatures. It takes a lot of energy though, so I've sacrificed some of my youth." 

"Dan, your hair!" Vilna interrupted them abruptly. 

Dan postponed the complaint to take a look at his shoulders instead. The dry strands before him weren't gray anymore. They seemed to come back to life like the plants after winter. Dan touched his face. His skin now felt smooth and a little plump. 

"It's so mesmerizing to see you raven again," Lavrin let out faintly, tiredly. "I think I've missed this look." 

"You sacrificed your youth?" 

"It's temporary. I lost a lot of my energy. It will renew soon, and then our genuine ages should return. But one more thing... I think you need to know. To save the life of a human being is difficult. This kind of magic requires a sacrifice. So after I've done it the length of my own life should decrease. I don't know exactly how much..." 

"You don't know?!" 

Lavrin shivered at the sudden loudness. For a moment he remembered himself as a little boy, terrified of his father being in a rage. He recalled that helplessness and the blind, depressing feeling of guilt. These memories shuddered then, and he emerged into the outside world again. So many things have changed. He knew that his father wasn't evil, he'd been told what had caused his violent actions in the past. Lavrin had freed himself from the fright and now was able to talk with him as equals. 

"Mother showed me that my magic can heal. I tried it on plants and old trees but never with a human being. I had never lost my youth before, so how can I know how many years this power took from me?" Lavrin grabbed that slender wrist, caught the gaze of the worrying eyes, glistening with the newly saturated green. "Father, I'm so happy and proud that I've managed to save you. I wouldn't bear losing you. You can't be mad at me for that because I love you. I've said it many times and you know that it's sincerely." 

Dan lowered his head, struggling with confusion and panic. He blushed and then instantly got pale. Lavrin realized that he was suffering, but they still couldn't find a way how to make him feel serene and loved. Love assurances only troubled his old wounds. Lavrin, however, couldn't refuse the warm words at all. Dan didn't look at him, feeling guilty for not being able to answer or at least to accept his son's sympathy. 

He turned to Vilna, vainly trying to hide the awkwardness. She sighed.

They found shelter inside the old tree trunk. Yellow evening light was penetrating through the small gaps in the bark, showing them the swirling dance of dust. Dan sat in the corner, surrounding himself with sorrowful shadows. 

Lavrin didn’t remember seeing him that young. Dan should’ve reached the age when he wasn't a father yet. He looked strict like before, like always, resembling a stone. But meanwhile, he was plump, and fragile, and painfully blooming. His silhouette seemed to tremble, like those brittle stems under the blows of early spring wind.

Lavrin winced, having noticed the unruly strands of gray hair on his shoulders. He surely was frantic in his first attempt at this magic, and mother wasn’t anywhere near to correct the effect. Lavrin could already see that his palms became drier, the stripes of veins tiredly protruded outwards. He touched his face a few times, and his fingers sink into the tissues of wrinkles near his mouth and brows. 

“At least one of my dreams came true,” Dan finally braved to leave his dark spot. He approached Lavrin hesitantly, and then bent his knees, sitting in front of him. The pain in his bones should have ceased, but there was a chance that his old intimate pain would've returned. “I was sure it’s impossible though.”

“What dream?”

“I can see my son aging.”

Lavrin couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Yes. Maybe I do like it too, you seeing me like this. As I’ve said before, I like to be adult. And even if it doesn't change—No, of course, it will!”

“I hope to not be turned into an infant. And you surely shouldn’t become a corpse.” 

“Well, I can assure you that I won’t. I assume myself a human being, but my insides are not entirely human-like. I’m able to live about five hundred years, like a tree. And even after fading I should regain the bond with nature. So aging barely can kill me.” 

Dan squeezed his frail elbow, hoping it to be true. 

They went out into the meadow at dawn, while the grass was still painted with orange and pink. Lavrin knew that Dan hasn't slept, watching him the whole night and noticing every change in his appearance with the swollen heart. He shouldn’t have worried so much because Lavrin wasn't in pain. Anyway, their turmoil didn't matter since their states had returned to usual. 

“I don’t even feel exhausted. I’m sorry for that long night. You’re shivering,” Lavrin tried to make a talk while they were slowly continuing their way. 

Dan rubbed his eyes and then firmly embraced his chest, trying to suppress a shiver. 

Vilna ran ahead, to see the path from the cliff of the mountain. Her thin figure was slightly floating in the early gentle rays.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Lavrin awkwardly went on. “There was very little chance for me to die. But it only would have meant that the magic was irreversible. The youth would’ve left with you then. And you might’ve lived your life again, the second time, avoiding the cruelty and grief. Just being happy. I wouldn’t have been near but you still could’ve learned to enjoy this world.” 

Dan gave him a wounded look. Lavrin breathed out, then approached, trying to softly grab his hand. Dan flinched. In the depth of his soul Lavrin anticipated the hit, the slight movement of Dan’s arm, enough to push Lavrin away and to paralyze him with pain. 

Lavrin let himself lose guard though, so the thrust threw him on the ground. With a pinch of worry, he felt the weird shift in his energy. His magic seemed to suddenly break through without his permission. 

When he opened his eyes, the huge stems of blackthorn were sticking out in front of him, wounding the soil for about five steps ahead and baring its stern thorns as if going to attack. Dan was standing on the little distance, watching the plant without a move and probably ready to dodge again. Lavrin didn’t intend to fight him, of course, and he should have known that Dan would've escaped the danger. There wasn’t another way for him to reveal his power. He felt frightened of what happened but, surely, he couldn’t hurt his father, not even in his imagination. 

“I’m sorry,” Lavrin mumbled, getting up. “My magic’s a little shaky now, after that healing spell. But I didn’t want to harm you. I won’t ever, you know… I’m not angry.”

Dan glared at his chest, whole white. Lavrin understood what exactly concerned him. 

“Your hit wasn’t so hard. My ribs aren’t crushed, don’t worry. And I forgive you. I know you didn’t want it either.” 

Lavrin felt how his insides softened. His body was already calming down after the sudden stress, and his turbid mind followed. He walked around the oversized blackthorn and, wincing from the strange desire to smile, carefully took his father’s palm. Dan didn’t resist this time.

“Hey, every time I wonder how this little hand can be so hard.”

Dan blinked, still looking in pain. Meanwhile, Lavrin caught himself enjoying the breath of inner thaw. It was the first time he braved to joke about their old mutual grief.


End file.
